Star Trek: Peacekeepers (S1E3): Truth The First Duty
by Grand Admiral Harmon
Summary: A visit from an old friend of Commander Enviro's throws into doubt his mental stability. Guest Starring: Nicholas Locarno
1. Teaser

**Episode 3: Truth; The First Duty**

**Teaser**

Stardate 45714.7 – Twenty Years Ago

He stood with back ramrod straight. He looked at the convened judges. Captain Satelk, his calm Vulcan demeanor betraying none of the disappointment he may have felt towards him. But Admiral Brand, she was the epitome of righteous indignation. He would have assumed that she would have liked nothing more than to take a phaser and vaporize him, to completely rid Starfleet of the dishonor he had brought on them.

"You of all people must realize that there are consequences to every crime," Admiral Brand said. "I do not see why I should not expel all of you from Starfleet. This Academy is an institution of higher learning. Helping mold the next generation of Starfleet. And yet, the four of you turned the entire Academy into a laughing stock."

"I concur," the Vulcan said. He held up a PADD. "This entire incident has already leaked to the Federation News Network. According to the reports I have read, people are skeptical about the very moral foundation of Starfleet. They question whether we are entering a dark age that not even Wolf 359 produced."

"So again," the elderly Admiral said, her eyes squinting. "Why should I be lenient with your fellow cadets, Mister Locarno?"

Nicholas Locarno cleared his throat. He looked her directly in the eyes. He didn't care anymore if there was any breach in decorum. He was getting expelled from Starfleet either way. His future was in ruins.

"Because I will take full responsible for Cadet Albert's death," he said.

"Yet you didn't act alone," the Admiral retorted. "You all concealed the crime. Five starships were damaged. A death occurred. Lies of omission from all four of you prevented the truth from coming to light. A miscarriage of justice was nearly carried out."

"But I can handle taking the punishment and blame for what happened, ma'am," Nicholas said. "I was the one who persuaded the others to keep quiet."

"But they went along with you," Satelk pointed out. "No Starfleet officer, not even a cadet, is forced to carry out anything against their conscience. They could have come clean at any time. But they didn't."

"That's only because they were following my lead," the young man argued. "It was my choices that led us here. They followed my lead and instructions. It's my fault that things have turned poorly, but don't make them suffer for simply following me!"

"I am still inclined to their expulsion from the Academy and denying them the chance to enter Starfleet," Admiral Brand said. She sniffed as she looked at him. "Nothing you have said convinces me to change my mind. Infact, all you have done is given me a greater conviction of their moral cowardice."

Nicholas Locarno closed his eyes. No, he couldn't let his squad be kicked out of Starfleet. They all had dreams of exploring the stars, pushing the boundaries of knowledge. They were the architects of the future. He couldn't let them be expelled.

So, he opened his eyes and rounded his shoulders. He was needing to change tactics. If appealing to their sense of loyalty to leadership and command wouldn't work, he would have to play his trump card.

"What will it be said if you expel Cadet Hajar?" he asked. "Her father is the ambassador to the Orion's. He has great influence and pull and if you kick her out, you better believe her father would cause trouble."

Brand's eyebrows raised in surprise at this blunt attack. Satelk seemed intrigued by where this young man was going to go. But Nicholas wasn't done yet.

"What about Wesley Crusher? He's perhaps the most gifted person in the entire Academy. If you expel him, you deny Starfleet all his skills. But what will it also show about Picard? He lobbied for his appointment. You expel his man, and you show the Federation that you don't trust him. That he's still more Borg than man and not to be forgiven.

"Also, what type of message does it send? Wes stood up and told the truth even after being given a pass. You tell every single cadet that telling the truth is more dangerous than keeping quiet."

The two officers said nothing. Instead, they passed a look between each other. Nicholas knew he was winning the fight. He just needed to go all in.

"Last but not least, can you really afford to toss out Sito Jaxa? She's a Bajoran. You can't afford the PR nightmare by kicking out a Bajoran, who has already lived her entire life being denied what she needs because of her race. That's a political quagmire with results you don't want to deal with."

He knew he had struck a nerve as the Admiral's face soured even more than it had already been. The two officers turned and began talking to each other in hushed whispers. Confidence surged through him as he watched them. He had always been very persuasive, and he was glad now that he had such refined skills.

A good minute or two passed in silence. Well, not really silence. Nicholas didn't say anything though. So, it was similar to silence in that respect. The two officers seemed to come to a decision, and they turned to him.

"You must realize that this isn't just a slap on the wrist, Cadet," Admiral Brand said. "Conspiracy to suppress facts from an official investigation, five counts of damaged Starfleet property, manslaughter. This is all punishable by jail-time. We were going to split the time to be served between the four of you. But if you take it by yourself, you will get all of their times combines."

"Are you certain you will be willing to accept all this by yourself?" the Vulcan captain asked.

"If it keeps my fellow cadets in Starfleet and assures their future?" Nicholas said proudly, puffing out his chest. "Absolutely."

"Why?" Admiral Brand asked him. She crossed her arms on the table and leaned forward. "Why are you willing to accept such severe consequences?"

"Believe it or not, ma'am," Locarno said. "My first and foremost concern is about the welfare of my squad-mates in Nova Squad. I would do anything to protect them."

"I find it curious," Captain Satelk said. "If you had shown the same determination for the safety of your squad a week ago, Cadet Albert would still be alive."


	2. Act 1

**Act 1**

_Commander Log – Stardate 22261.09: As we approach Starbase 33, we must be weary of the Romulans. There have been some civil revolts going on within the weakened Empire and we need to make sure that it stays on their side of the Neutral Zone. But, on a personal note, I will not miss us getting rid of Crewman Doog'ren, who will be transferred to a Federation prison transport at the Starbase._

The senior staff sat around the briefing room table. No one said a word, and the silence was palpable. Awkward in its nature.

On the left side of the table, the four female senior staff members sat. At the furthest seat from the front of the table, Operations Chief Yoshi Tano sat. The Korean woman's chin was in her hand, the elbow propped against the table. She had a glazed look, staring at a spot on the bare wall.

Next to her sat Councilor Judy Ziz. The Trill was absently picking at one of her spots, one that barely stood just above the collar of her blue uniform. Her other hand was drumming on the table. Again, it was all absent-mindedly.

Second to last, or in this case, second from the head of the table, Doctor T'Lal sat. The Vulcan was looking down at the table. Her fingers were laced together, but the index fingers stood straight up, pressed together as if they were a small tower high above the hills of her knuckles.

On the right-side seat of the head of the table, Chief Science Officer Mila Greks sat. The second officer yawned loudly, rubbing her eyelids as she did.

Sele Kol, chief engineer, was sitting on the right side of the table three chairs down. He scratched at his cleanshaven chin. The Cardassian family bracelet slid down his arm ever so slightly, clashing with his Bajoran nose-ridges. ThThe

To his right sat Security Chief Z'org. The Gorn was picking at his razor-sharp teeth with a long claw from his hand. His tail stuck out of the back of the chair. The chair was custom made, so his tail had a slot that it could fit in.

Last but not least, Commander James Enviro sat, fingers laced together and slightly swinging his seat from side to side. Not enough to bump into the Gorn though. He'd not have wanted to discover what a Gorn would do if they were bumped into.

The chair at the head of the table was what caused this awkward, bored silence. It was completely empty. Its occupant _should _have been already in it. Their fearless leader, Captain Lillian Traz.

"Computer," a weary Commander called out. "What time is it?"

"_07:15 hours_."

The entire group groaned. Even their normally unflappable Vulcan let out a rather audible breath through her nostrils. Their morning briefing should have already started by now.

"Can we please just start this meeting ourselves?" Sele asked. "I really want to get to work on correcting those micro-fractures along the dorsal hull."

"We need to wait for the Captain," Mila pointed out. "This briefing is supposed to be about our rendezvous at Starbase 33 with the other ships. She's got all that information."

"And yet she isss not here," Z'org pointed out.

"Commander Enviro to Captain Traz," James called, tapping on his comm-badge. No response came. He tapped it again. "Captain Traz, do you copy?"

There was still no response. James shook his head. What was going on? Why hadn't she responded?

"Computer locate the Captain," he called.

"_Captain Traz is in holodeck one." _

The entire group seemed to turn at once to James. As if he somehow knew what was so important on the holodeck that she would be late to the briefing. He even heard similar opinions being voiced.

"Want me to fetch her?" Mila asked.

"No," James shook his head. "I will."

* * *

"I knew you would appear to my lair, Wonder Woman," the man said, turning with a fierce laugh. The man stood at roughly 1.79 meters. He was lanky, a protruding jaw. Green hair fell in dirty lanks around the white painted skin and purple three-piece suit and purple fedora. "You have never been one to simply leave a friend in need."

"That's right, Mr. J," a woman, standing a little shorter at 1.67 meters said. She wore her blond hair in twin ponytails that invoked an image of a cheerleader. She wore a leather jacket that exposed her midriff and shoulders but pressed her breasts up. "This chick-a-dees not nearly as smart as you are."

"Silence Harley!" the man snapped, hitting her across the face with the back of his hand. "Can't you see I'm a little busy?"

The woman, Harley, had tears filling her eyes as she turned and ran from the room. The purple-coated man rubbed his temple between his fingers. His eyes closed in annoyance.

"I'm going to have to be extra handsy now or else she'll be in a bad mood all day," the man said.

Captain Traz stood there but had anyone of her crew had seen her now, they would never have imagined that this was their captain. Instead of the modest Starfleet uniform of black jacket over a red-tunic, black pants uniform, she was wearing battle armor. The breastplate fit snugly over her bosom, exposing her upper chest, shoulders and arms. She wore gauntlets over her wrists and greaves over the front of her shins, straps tightening it around the calf. Her upper leg was completely exposed.

She wore a tiara with a star on the front and carried a single-handed sword, a circular shield and a rope that hung from the belt around her leather skirt and breastplate. She lifted her sword and pointed the tip at the man.

"You should be nicer to Harley Quinn," she told him. "For some unknown reason, she actually loves you. A sick, twisted love but love all the same. You should appreciate that, Joker."

"That's the best kind of love," the Joker held up a long, white painted finger.

Lillian rolled her eyes. She honestly had no idea why even a holographic character would want to be in an abusive relationship. Especially when the object of the affections is towards a mass murderer. But, finding the psychology behind such behavior was not the point of this holodeck time.

"Give me Flash and I might consider letting you go unharmed," she declared, keeping her sword pointed at his throat.

"I've always liked that about you, Wonder Woman," Joker commented, stroking his pointed chin as he spoke. "You have no qualms about doing what needs to be done. Unlike Bats. I'm afraid his lack of stomach for such things will one day prove his downfall."

"I have no time for your games," Traz responded. "Give me Flash or you will not need worry about Batman. You will worry about me."

The Joker chuckled and clapped his hands together. "And how are you going to make me worried when you will be busy?" he asked, holding his hands together and a gleeful look on his face.

"What are you…." She began but there was a massive eruption of stone and mortar as the entire right wall seemed to come apart. She barely had time to glimpse a flash of red and blue before something hard hit her, sent her flying through the left wall.

Even though the holodeck safeties were on, the force of the blow had buried her under a pile of rubble. Her sword and shield were gone. Presumably they had been sent flying when she had been struck. Grinding her teeth, she thrust herself up. Broken bricks flew apart from her as she looked, hair somehow immaculate. She couldn't prevent the amused smile. Somehow these superhero holocomics managed to keep the hair of the females perfect.

She had been completely thrown into an alleyway between two buildings of Gotham. Unlike most holodeck comics set in the DC Universe, Gotham was actually currently during daylight hours. Usually they were in the dark of night.

But her smile faltered as she saw what was coming at her. It was Superman, his red cape floating behind him as he came at her steadily. The heat from the lasers behind his eyes were causing red smoke to fly upwards.

"Ah, an Insane Superman story," she smirked. "I know how to deal with this."

She crossed her forearms and prepared to smash them together. The shockwave it would cause would knock Superman back. Then she could use the rope at her side, the Lasso of Truth, to help break the mental control over him.

But before she could slam them together, Superman had flown at her. It was a pillar of multi-colors that was impossible to track. His fist plowed into her stomach, and while it couldn't hurt her, her body still reacted to the punch, her upper body bending forward. Then a hand grabbed her by the throat and she started to ascend, Superman's hatred filled face looking at her. She could feel the pressure to her throat like iron bars. Again, had the holodeck safeties been compromised, she'd have already been dead.

A sound of a door opening made her turn her eye as far as she could. The sound drew Superman's gaze as well.

"What are you doing, Captain?" her First Officer suddenly asked her. At that moment Superman fired lasers from his eyes, aimed straight at the man.

"Computer, freeze program." She ordered and with a small beep, the program froze. Although she had the awkward sensation of being suspended by her feet. In actuality it was no more than two meters but it felt much higher. "I'm running a Federation Justice League holodeck program. What are you doing here, James?"

"It's 07:20," he reported to her. "The morning briefing was supposed to start twenty minutes ago but you never showed up."

That was odd. How had she lost track of time? Must have been having too much fun.

"Computer, end program," she called, grunting between the grip of the hand that held her throat. But the program didn't dissolve. Everything remained in place. "Computer, end program."

"Must be a malfunction with the computer," the Commander said to her. "I'll manually shut it off for you. Where is the holodeck access panel?"

"Behind me on the alleyway wall," she grunted. "The boxing advertisement. Hurry, it's getting a little hard to breath."

This was indeed very peculiar to James. His captain was in armor, being held in the sky by a man with a cape. And trying to shoot him with phaser beams from his eyes.

James stepped up to the brick wall, and he could see the outline of the holodeck controls cover panel. It was indeed the boxing advertisement, a really old one that was torn in a few places as had yellowed with age. He pried loose the panel and indeed saw the glitch.

"It looks like one of the relays has gone bad," he reported to her. "It also appears that the I'm about to shut it off, but I'll have to catch you when you fall. I'll only have two seconds to turn and catch you once it ends."

"You better catch me," Traz said, her voice becoming strangled.

He pushed the red off button on the LCARS screen. He at once turned and placed himself with hands held out so he could catch her between his hands. Two meters wasn't a large fall but it wasn't exactly a height he thought his captain should be falling.

Even as the holodeck environment vanished with a ripple, Traz was suddenly whipped to the side and backwards. Her exclamation of surprise sent her plummeting. His own eyes were wide as suddenly she began to plummet, not straight but with back aimed towards the floor. He had only an instant to turn his arms so he could distribute the weight and not be sent toppling over her.

With an 'oof!' she landed in his arms. She wasn't as heavy as he had expected she would be. But he held her for a few seconds, while she caught her breath.

"I enjoy 'simulated realism' as much as the next person," she said, putting a hand to her throat, "But this mode at times feels like holodeck safeties having been turned off."

James, however, didn't quiet hear her. Instead, he looked at his captain, in her armor and suddenly had a stirring of emotion and couldn't help but think she was an extremely beautiful person. One hand was clamped around her bare shoulder and the other on her bare thigh. He couldn't help but notice that the skin was smooth and soft to the touch.

"You planning on putting me down anytime soon?" she teased him.

"What?" he asked, switching to her deep blue eyes.

"Or are you planning on carrying me to the morning briefing?" she raised an eyebrow.

"Oh!" his eyes went wide and he set her down, putting his hands on her waist to help give her additional balance. Their eyes met and for a moment they just stared into each other's eyes. "I….I think we should be getting to the briefing."

"Probably," she said, and they pulled back from each other. "Although, I should probably change. I don't think that my costume is exactly Starfleet appropriate."

"There might be some questions raised," James agreed, giving her a small smile.

* * *

"Here you are, Commander," the Bolian lieutenant said. He handed over the PADD to James as they stood on the promenade of Starbase 33. It wasn't very busy, but there was certainly no shortage of Starfleet personnel on the base. "We will take charge of the prisoner. It will take us ten days at warp 8 to get to the Penal Colony on New Zealand."

"Very good," James finished scanning the document. He turned to Z'org, who stood impatiently. "Mr. Z'org. Turn over the prisoner to Lieutenant Djlo."

"Yesss sssir," the Gorn replied and two security officers pushed Crewman Doog'ren out.

The Andorian was dressed in grey prison overalls, having been forced to surrender his uniform. He had binders that weighed down his arms. Unable to lift his arms more than a few centimeters in any direction, he stared resolutely down on the ground. His antennae curled inwards dejectedly.

"Have a good day gentleman," the Lieutenant bid them.

James nodded as the small group of Starfleet Security turned and marched away, their prisoner in the middle of their small entourage. He let out an exhale of breath, grateful that he didn't need to ever worry about that Andorian ever again.

He turned to walk away and crashed head-first into a female human, the two of them taking a surprised step back. The woman glared at him, putting her fists on her hips. Her blond hair was tied back, revealing a round but hard face. And perhaps one of the most athletic builds he had ever seen on a person.

"Watch it!" she snapped.

"I was standing here," he retorted. "Perhaps you should watch where you are going, Lieutenant!"

"I'm no Lieutenant!" she puffed out her sizable bosom at him angrily. "I'm Commander Camille Clark, the new first officer of the USS _Valkyrie_! You should declare yourself to me, you lumbering ox!"

He glanced to her collar, and he didn't see a third pip there. Although he did see the empty round slot with which one would be place. He scowled at her. How dare she bark orders at him! He was senior to her, even if she thought she was of the same rank.

"Commander Clarke," the petite woman behind her said, bushing back her long brunette hair behind her ear. "Captain Bernard wants us on the ship by 1500 hours. We need to move on."

"Yes, Ensign Norte," she threw her nose in the air. "Come, let's not bother with these fools any longer."

The ensign threw the Commander an apologetic look as the two women set off. James threw an eye their direction, watching the women continue their path, cutting a course through the flow of people. He turned and glared at the Gorn, who had a smug look on his elongated face.

"I thought you were supposed to be on top of security risks like that woman!" he growled.

"Thisss one believed you could handle her yourssself," Z'org hissed in a halting, choppy fashion. Perhaps a Gorn chuckle?

He snorted and looked away, began to walk off. His footsteps were determined, ready to get back to the ship in time for the briefing with Admiral Boombly Edeot. He only _wished _he had thought of that name. Well, at least maybe he'd be able to fire a few torpedoes straight into Romulan space.

"Jim? Jimmy Enviro?" a voice called out, bringing him to a stop.

He turned and his eyes alighted upon a man of similar age as him. The youthful exuberance was gone, replaced with sunken features that bore testament to the long, difficult years. His once nicely combed hair was now long. Yet he couldn't help but smile at his old friend.

"Nick?" he asked, the other man stepping up to him. They embraced each other in a bearhug, thumping each other on the back. "When did you get here?"

"Two days ago on a Ferengi merchant vessel," Nick said to him. "The big-lobed scum ditched me. Left me to my own devices. I haven't been able to get passage anywhere."

The more he spoke, the more a cloud seemed to pass over his face. A cloud of resentment and anger. James knew only too well that the good cheer of his old friend had long been wrung out of him like water from a wrung rag. Much more prickly and less inclined to be forgiving.

"Z'org," he said, trying to change the mood. "I'd like you to meet an old Academy buddy of mine, Nicholas Locarno. Nick, my chief of security, Lieutenant Commander Z'org."

"Pleased to meet you," Nick said, holding out his hand. The Gorn looked down at his hand but didn't extend his own. But he nodded instead.

"Forgive thisss one," the Gorn said. "Thisss one doesss not like touching the flesh of other racccesss. Unlesssss it isss to feed."

"Not a problem," Nick said, holding a hand up in a moment of genuine good nature. He turned his entire attention back to his old friend. "So….you are a Commander. You said you had been made first officer last transmission you sent you. The _Wayne, _am I correct?"

"That correct," he affirmed. "Look, if you want, you can come aboard my ship."

The cloud passed over Nicholas Locarno's face again. "I spent fifteen years on a Starfleet prison vessel," he said curtly. "Why would I want to get onboard another Starfleet ship? Hell, I'm only tolerating this starbase because I got dumped here and no one wants to give an ex-convict a ride out of here."

He seemed to come to his sense, realizing he was being bitter. He tried pulling off a half-heated smile.

"Besides," he said in false cheeriness. "Even if I was inclined, I would need to get permission from the captain of any vessel I got on. Part of my parole."

James had heard more than enough of his bitter rants about the unfairness of his punishment and the terms of his parole. At times it seemed like Nick had forgotten that he had voluntarily taken on those consequences for his fellow cadets. To protect them.

"Enough of me," Nicholas pressed on and put a shoulder on James' arm. He looked him dead in the eye. "How are you doing, Jimmy? You were in a bad place….before. You doing okay now?"

He shrugged. "Well, I am doing better," he assured his old friend. "These last few months on the _Wayne_ has done me good."

"I'm glad to hear it," Nick said, his voice sincere. "I was worried…."

"There was a time when I wasn't sure if I was going to be okay to be honest," James said, accidentally interrupting his friend. "Between the Borg and Leslie leaving me…."

"_Leslie_?" Nick interrupted him in turn. A frown was on his face. The next words he spoke very slowly. "You don't mean Leslie…."

"Connor," James finished for him. "We were doing good. Or at least I thought we were. She left me right after I accepted the assignment to serve on the _Wayne_. Why?"

Nicholas seemed lost in thought for a few seconds. During this time, his eyes, long since having the joy drained out by his years in prison, never left his face. He rounded his shoulders as if coming to a decision. One that he didn't like.

"On second thought, I think I _will _accept your offer of a ride off this dump."


	3. Act 2

**Act 2**

Admiral Boombly Edeot wasn't a man for briefing rooms. Well, he wasn't much of a man at all. His skin was a reddish-orange, with a large cranium and pronounced ridges that pushed his beady yellow eyes further to the side than most humanoid species. Boombly Edeot was the singular Starfleet Admiral from the race known as the Kasheeta. Their only notable contribution to Federation history was being in attendance to the Starfleet trial of James T. Kirk after the "Probe Incident" which required a time-travel to procure two humpback whales.

So, he stood on the bridge. In full view of all the bridge crew.

"The Romulans are very much enduring civil strife," he said, his voice shaky. "Our goal to ensure that the civil strife remains on their side of the Neutral Zone. The _Wayne _is one of three ships assigned to watch the situation and intervene _only_ if it spills into our space."

He turned to the view-screen and with a push of a button, the entire screen changed from the area surrounding the space station to a 3-D diagram. They could see three small ships on the 3-D display. The spade hulled _Norway _class the _Wayne_, the circular hull of a _Centaur_ class ship whose name was displayed as the _Archer _and a Klingon-style looking _Curry _class known as the _Vulcan. _

"You are replacing the _Valkyrie_, which has been reassigned at the request of Admiral Janeway," Edeot informed them.

"Meet the first officer on that ship," James said in a side-whisper to the Captain as the Admiral was droning on about their assignment. "Thinks very much of herself."

_Kinda like a strapping Commander who set foot on my bridge three months ago._

He heard the telepathic words and the tint of humor in the thought. He glanced sideways and noticed the amused smile on the Captain's lips. It warmed him considerably and he couldn't resist smiling as well. He mentally slapped himself and focused on the briefing. What was the matter with him?

"….be maintaining blockade distance between the various ships of the task force."

"B-b-blockade distance, sir?" Ensign Daarth said from his navigation console.

James could sense the annoyance from the Captain. An annoyance he shared. The Kasheeta did not see rank the same way other races did. To them, each person had the right to make a comment at any time and give an opinion with the opinion having the same weight as the leader of the group. This cultural view had hindered their species' ability to join Starfleet. They couldn't adapt to the more regular view on rank. Even though Boombly Edeot had a very successful Starfleet career, he still insisted on his subordinates following his cultural tradition.

"Three thousand kilometers between each vessel," the Admiral explained. "Enough to give every vessel of the taskforce a good firing arc. It is very good to maintain that in potential combat situations."

_The only potential combat situations I'm interested in a good firing arc is what you can accomplish with a woman in bed, James._

The Commander couldn't help but snort loudly as he heard the words. The entire bridge turned to look at him. Even the Admiral stopped, looking at him with his offset beady eyes. A flash of embarrassment ran through him but he quickly recovered.

"Sorry, sir. I didn't mean to interrupt."

"No Commander," the Admiral held a long finger hand out in his direction. "If you have a comment, please, speak your mind."

He cleared his throat. Well, he hadn't actually been trying to make a statement. But there was no help for it now.

"Forgive me, Admiral," he started, leaning forward in his chair. "I'm perhaps the most combat experienced officer onboard the _Wayne_. I have had experience with blockade distance. They tried using it during the Tyre Offensive during the Dominion War. The Jem'Hadar and their Cardassian allies were able to tear us apart, sir."

"We are much more advanced in our starships since the beginning of the Dominion War," Edeot pointed out.

"Of course sir," he didn't argue that point. "But even now, blockade distance is unfortunately very unreliable for any race with real teeth in their combat capabilities. The Romulans not only are, but they also have cloaking tech. I don't think that simply three ships will be able to stop the Romulans should they come in any sort of force."

"This comes from the highest levels of the Starfleet Command, Commander," the Admiral responded, shooting down the concern with the same effort one gives to brush their hair out of their eyes. "Three ships will be more than sufficient against anything short of a full out invasion force."

* * *

"Take us to warp 7," Traz called to navigation. "I want to be in the Qualar system within the week."

"Yes ma'am," Ensign Daarth replied from his station. It was one of the few times he hadn't stammered at least once. She liked that. Hopefully it meant he was getting more comfortable onboard her ship.

She glanced over at her First Officer. He stood next to Z'org, speaking at the tactical station. As she looked at him, she couldn't stop herself from feeling…..what? Attracted to him? Ever since the Romulans had nearly crashed into her ship, she had seen him….what?

She hadn't meant to say something that was innuendo. Well, she had _thought _it. She hadn't actually said anything.

There was a fine line between acceptable and unacceptable behavior between crew-mates. Especially when it came to superiors with their subordinates. She closed her eyes, hoping to figure out exactly where she was on that spectrum.

* * *

Judy walked up to the doors and pushed the door chime. She stood there, with hands behind her back. She didn't have long to wait before the door slid open. The figure within the doorway scanned her visually. Unlike most males she encountered (and including some females) it wasn't checking her out romantically in any way. The man before her was guarded and suspicious as he checked her out.

"Hello?" the man asked, his eyes narrowed.

"Hi!" she said brightly. "I am Judy Ziz, ships' councilor and ship ambassador. And you are?"

She thrust her hand out confidently and held it before her. He glanced down at the proffered hand, the long hair framing his shallow scruffy face. At first, he seemed disinclined to shake her hand. But she kept it extended. His hand flexed a few times as he seemed to be warring between a long-cultivated distrust and the desire to be hospitable. Taking what could only be explained as a bracing breath, he held out his own hand and took hers.

"Nicholas Locarno," he addressed himself. It was hard to ignore just how hard he was gripping her hand. The act was overly aggressive. "What do you want?"

"As ship ambassador I like to meet all the new faces onboard, even the guests," she said, keeping her tone bright and happy. She did not slacken her own grip on the hand. Adol Ziz would _not _have ever allowed anyone to outlast him. And she had gained that stubborn-side. "So, who smuggled you onboard?"

"Does it really matter?"

"Not beyond a general curiosity about the types of people my shipmates hang out with when they aren't on board."

"James Enviro," he said, the words coming out like teeth being pulled.

"Really?" her eyes grew wide. "I was under the impression he _had _no friends. He certainly doesn't talk to me."

"Really?" he repeated the question back to her.

"Yep," she nodded her head. "I guess we're not friends. I try but he's so closed that I would almost have assumed he was birthed from a warp core than an actual family."

Thoughts were whirring behind his eyes. She could see his defenses starting to soften. At the same time, very slightly his clenched hand started to relax. She was glad for that. His muscle strength was more than hers and she had really begun to start hurting.

"You're the ships councilor?"

"Yep!"

He finally let go of her hand and motioned for her to enter. With a smile, she entered the room.

Before she knew it, she was having the most delightful conversation with Nicholas Locarno. Before long, working all her councilor charm, she was able to break down all his defenses. She didn't really know anything about his past, and he seemed determined not to talk about it to her. But she was learning a great deal about James.

"Did you ever have Professor Spotlek?" he asked, in perhaps an hour within their conversation.

"He was an overly large Vulcan," she recalled. "Taught Federation History."

"Did he ever tell you why he actually started walking from class?" he asked.

"What?" she asked, drawing a blank on what he was talking about.

Even as the words left her mouth, the door chime let out a triple series of beeps. Nick held up a hand and opened the door. Judy followed him and saw the First Officer in the door. He seemed tired, it had been a very long day.

"Hey Nick," he began. "I was just seeing how you were getting settled."

"Come in, Jimmy!" Nick said. Judy could sense the sudden elation. She never was envious of Captain Traz' ability to sense emotions. She had six lifetimes of experience with which to draw on to sense emotional changes. "I was just talking with Judy."

James stepped inside, turned to see whom his friend was talking about and spotted the Councilor. His lips pressed hard into small slits and his eyes narrowed. Judy simply gave him an award-winning smile.

"I didn't realize you had company," James said, addressing his friend even though his eyes never left her.

"Join us, Commander!" she brightly said. "Mr. Locarno was about to tell me a story. So what about Professor Spotlek?"

"Ah yes!" Nick said exuberantly. He hurried to his seat. James followed, keeping a wary eye on the councilor. "When me and Jimmy were in the Academy, he was a year younger than me. But his grasp of Federation History was such that we had the same class. During that time, Spotlek never walked from class."

"Really?" she asked.

"He considered it an illogical use of his time," Nick said. "He had a personal transporter that would transport him to his own personal shuttle. But Jimmy here came up with a perfect idea to prank him."

"We adapted his teleporter to transport him anywhere _but _his shuttle," the Commander explained.

"Each day one of our group would program it to send him to another place," Nick explained. "One day we teleported him into the mess hall. Another day it was the Commandants office as he was talking with a Federation Council member. Once we sent him into San Francisco Bay. Another time, we teleported him right into the women's showers. Our good Commander here was the one that sent him there."

"It was actually Wesley Crusher that came up with that one," the Commander politely corrected.

"Ah…..of course," Nicholas said. His expression soured. "Wes. I gave up my freedom to save him and the others from getting kicked out of Starfleet. And guess what? Wes quits Starfleet, throwing away my sacrifice. They all threw away my sacrifice."

"It's not like that!" James responded. Judy could feel the sudden awkwardness rising. The exasperation in the Commander's voice.

"Oh yeah?" Nick shot back. "Jean, you know what happened to her? She ended up getting captured by the Dominion and they tortured her so badly that she's spent the past decade in an insane asylum! And Sito? She….she allowed herself to get killed by the Spoonheads! Did you know we were planning on getting married after graduation? Even after I took the fall, she still was on board with it. We were going to get married even though I was in prison. Yet…..she decided to throw my sacrifice away by going on a suicide mission!"

"Look, they all knew what you did and were grateful for your sacrifice," James tried to soothe him.

"Then why are you the only one that kept in contact with me after I was imprisoned?" he shot back. "Why hasn't Wes ever reached out? Why has he never returned any of my calls?"

"Look, Nick. I told you. Shortly after I started dating Leslie, she told me that there are times that people sometimes have to distance themselves in order to move on. They can't return, even if they are supremely grateful."

Judy saw something. When the name 'Leslie' was said, she saw a look in the face of Nicholas. There was an uncomfortably nature to it. A concern that went deep. She took note of it and filed it away.

* * *

It was late at night as Judy was in the bathroom in her quarters.

She had never been one for a ton of makeup, but there was still enough that there was a comforting feel to taking a wet cloth and wiping away the layer of coloring that she used. In the background she listened to a letter that her step-daughter had sent her.

_"….she tells me that I can't start having a pet until I get a little older. But that's not fair!"_

A door chime caught her attention. "Computer, pause letter," she ordered and the letter came to a stop. Grabbing a green robe, she slipped into it and stepped up to the door, tying the cord to close up the front, making her somewhat presentable. She pressed the open button.

The door slid open to reveal Nicholas Locarno standing outside her door. She raised an eyebrow. She certainly didn't mind visitors, but what was he doing at 2200 hours at her quarters.

"Councilor?" he said. He fidgeted slightly. "May I talk to you about a confidential matter?"

"Mr. Locarno," she said. She wasn't exactly in the mood to give a counselling session. "If you need to talk with me, we can always schedule an appointment for tomorrow."

"It's not going to be long," he said. He glanced side to side down the hallways. He looked like a man who was doing something that he knew was wrong. "Please, a few minutes and I will leave you alone."

Judy could feel her fingers drumming on her leg. She mentally commanded the Ziz Symbiote to stop it. She inclined with her head back into her quarters. He stepped inside, the rapport they had built all but gone as he fidgeted.

"Say what you need to say," she crossed her arms. "It's really late, I was getting ready for bed and listening to a letter from my step-daughter. And as much as I like gossip, I'm not a fan of the gossip caused by strange men visiting a ladies' quarters late at night."

"I…." he started, his discomfort only increasing. "I have had a long time to consider the consequences of the truth. Or lack thereof. I have seen how not telling the truth can have a negative impact."

"As both a councilor and an ambassador I agree," she nodded her head. "But what does that have to do with anything?"

"Has…..has…." he stammered, trying to force whatever was on his mind out. He made a weird snorting sound. "Look, has James met with you?"

"Met?"

"For counselling."

The questions sparked her interest. Had her spots had been from a different race and not her native Trill ones, she could almost imagine them changing colors on her. But she wouldn't allow the interest to overcome her professionalism.

"Even if he has, I can't tell you," she replied.

"I take that as a no," Nicholas said. He seemed to have found strength by stating his question. "May I show you something?"

"As long as it isn't a piece of your anatomy," she warned, holding up a finger.

He frowned, unable to decide whether she was making a joke or not. He turned and walked to the console on her wall. The transmission letter from her step-daughter was still up. She was a rather obese girl in her mid-teens. Her hair also had a greasy quality to it. However, Judy had always found that despite the physical flaws, she was a delightful person.

Nicholas glanced questioningly at her. She slowly nodded her head and he turned to the console. But then he stopped, shook his head and turned back to her.

"It would be best if we went to the holodeck to show you," he said simply.

She rolled her eyes. She stepped up to the console a punched in a few commands. A teleporter beam warped around them and after a few seconds of a blizzard, they suddenly rematerialized in holodeck 2. She stood there, suddenly feeling a bit of a chill. The Ziz symbiote squirmed at the sudden change of temperature.

"Computer," he called out, "Run holographic program 'Leslie Connor'."

"_Ready_. _Specify version._"

"For physical look. Use images of Starfleet scientist Irina Galliulin, Human, Russian, circa 2269."

Before them, an 3D image of a woman materialized before them. She wore a dress of black with purple and red flowers sewn throughout the dress. She was, Judy noted appreciatively, a handsome woman with a tanned skin, and thick brown hair that was curled. However, she didn't know where this was going.

"For biography: add the character bio of _Enterprise NX-01_ entomologist Elizabeth Cutler but make updates to current time period."

The computer acknowledged the command. The Councilor didn't know the NX-01. Starfleet vessels didn't have a NX designation. But still, she had no idea where this was going.

"Give her the personality of United States First Lady Laura Bush. Include her accent and any inflections that are present in historical media."

Judy didn't know her Earth history well enough to know what the First Lady was. Perhaps an old title for a continental leader? She obviously had spent enough time on Earth to learn about the different continents.

"Lastly, make the character believe that she is currently in a relationship with Starfleet Commander James Enviro of the USS _Wayne_ and give her knowledge of Enviro's history that is suitable to a romantic partner. Add this with all other info across all Federation holographic databases relating to this character, including any time this character would have been active. Save character and run."

"_Acknowledged_."

The character took a deep breath as if coming out of a long sleep and looked at them both. She frowned as she looked at Nicholas. Judy still wasn't quite sure what was happening or why this she was being kept from her quarters, in a robe no less, with this man.

"Well, hello Nick," she said with a rich Southern accent. "It's been a long time."

"Leslie," he nodded. "I'd like to introduce you to Judy Ziz. She's a colleague of James."

"Oh!" she said, holding out her hand to the Councilor. Judy took her hand and shook it. "I must say though Nick. The poor girl isn't even dressed. Did you steal her from her quarters?"

"Manner of speaking," Judy nodded her head. She looked sideways at Nicholas, who urged her with a head tilt to talk to her. She took a deep breath and turned to her. "So…..Leslie. You know the Commander. How long?"

"Oh yes," she smiled. "We originally met at the Academy after Nicholas got kicked out. But we didn't start dating until after James meet me at Starbase 74 after the Tyra Campaign. I was working on studying botanical plants in that region of space."

"I see," Judy nodded.

"When's the last time you met James?" Nicholas asked.

"Well, that would be right after he took the assignment from the _Wayne," _the hologram shook her head. "I tried to convince him not to go but…."

"Computer, freeze program!" the Councilor called out and the woman froze. She turned a glare to the human. "Look, what is this all about? Why am I talking to a holographic representation of a woman that the First Officer once dated."

"You aren't looking at a holographic representation of the woman he dated," Nicholas shook his head. "This _is _the woman he dated."

She frowned at the comment. Maybe her brain was being a little sluggish, but she had _no _idea of what he was going on about. Maybe his time in prison had altered his thinking. She really didn't know. He noticed her confusion.

"There is no Leslie Connor," he explained. "Whenever he is having difficulties, he conjures up this hologram. He's unable to separate this holographic creation from reality. This holographic character, he's literally been having a relationship with a hologram."

The news shocked her. Commander Enviro had never been diagnosed with holographic addiction. So why create this program?

"After his encounter with the Borg, he reached a low-point," he explained. "I visited him on Earth and had to talk him out of committing suicide. He uses this holographic character to cope with stress but like I said, he can't separate her from fiction. He never talks about her when he's doing well, because he is able to forget about her entirely. The fact that he remembers her, and thinks she's a real person, that's not a good sign."


End file.
